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Bruno spins, “What?”
Carlo is smiling.
I hold up my hands. “What the fuck. I was eight. My interest in conversation around then was all centered on whether or not it was going to lead to ice-cream.” Bruno still looks skeptical. “Honestly, Bruno. I might have said a big word, and he might have said, ‘Oh, well that’s nice, little girl.’ No, I don’t remember.”
I tell them, “Give my love to the Indians. And try not to lose all our money.”
The Indian casino deal is a huge part of my plans for the future. Before we get into bed with the other side, I want as much hard information as I can get.
“Okay, I got every dime of it safe.” Bruno calls back from the door, “It’s all in a bag in the trunk.”
Through the wide wall of armor-plated window glass in the lounge, silver moonlight brushes the bottoms of heavy clouds hanging over a deep dark blue velvet sky. Across the pine tops, the Olympic mountains are silhouetted, like a cut-out from a Bob Ross painting.
Silvery highlights trace my joyful lattices of flower beds on one side of the grounds, planted in swirling, flowing patterns, balanced against the vigorous sprouting herbs and shrubs on the other side. The plantings frame the ornamental lake with the fountain in the center, and walkways meander down to the woods.
I peck at the nibbles left on the coffee table, looking out at the view as I call Alessio.
He picks up after four rings. That’s slow for him. Another beat and I would have gone to voicemail.
He waits for me to speak.
“Alessio, are you coming tonight?”
“Way to start a conversation. Lets go, girl.” Raucous sounds of a bar rumble and spill in the background. That wouldn’t worry me, but Alessio’s voice sounds slurred. Like he’s chewing on the ends of his words. Not a lot, but a lot more than I’ve heard him before.
We’ve been together often enough and consumed heroic quantities of tequila and champagne. I never heard him sound like he was not totally in control.
“I guess I’m not expecting you for dinner, then, Alessio.”
“What? You sound like my mom.” A low-pitched burst of laughter cracks out from Alessio’s end. “Not like Mom, but like somebody trying to be…” he trails off, chuckling. “You know what I’m saying.”
“I really don’t, Alessio. Are you sure that you’re okay?”
“There you go again. Seriously.” Indistinct voices are swirling in around him. Or maybe it’s just one voice, mingled with the background noise. “What do you need?”
I’m not liking the sounds of any of this. It really feels like there’s something wrong with this picture.
What? “I just called to see where you were. If you were going to be here. I hadn’t heard from you.”
“Hey,” he says, “You should see my beautiful phone.”
What?
“My uncle got me a fantastic deal on an upgrade for my phone. It came today.”
There’s a long pause with more noise and more laughter. I hear his voice, away from the phone, but I can’t make out the words.
He comes back and says, “Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
Straight after I hang up, I call Mikey..
CHAPTER TWELVE
If my man wants to go out and get shit-faced, spread his money all around some clubs and dive-bars, do whatever he wants, that’s fine with me. For Alessio, it’s out of character.
The call left me feeling anxious.
He’s a high-level control freak. I’ve never known him to go out and get goofy the way that he sounds right now.
